


Kink Meme Collection

by synonomy



Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Bloodplay, Blow Jobs, Consensual Infidelity, Crossdressing, Cunnilingus, Desperation, Dirty Talk, F/M, Face-Fucking, Ficlet Collection, Frottage, Genderswap, Kinks, Knifeplay, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Masturbation, Multiple Orgasms, Overstimulation, Phone Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, Rough Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Sex, Vibrators, Wet & Messy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-15
Updated: 2013-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-13 03:28:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 17,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28771611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/synonomy/pseuds/synonomy
Summary: A porny collection of ficlets written for various kink memes.
Relationships: Frank Iero/Gerard Way, Frank Iero/Mikey Way
Comments: 4
Kudos: 43





	1. The First

**Author's Note:**

> So I've posted some of these separately before, but since they're all pretty short and borne of prompts from the same couple places, I figured it'd be more appropriate to collect them all together.
> 
> The memes I wrote these for are [**anon_lovefest**](https://anon-lovefest.livejournal.com/) @LJ and [**bandom_meme**](https://bandom-meme.dreamwidth.org/) @Dreamwidth. Individual prompts & tags can be found in the chapter summaries.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For [bandom_meme](https://bandom-meme.dreamwidth.org/).
> 
>  **Prompt:** ' _Gerard/Frank (in that order) first time! Gerard is awkward and overwhelmed and Frank is patient and coaxing.'_
> 
>  **Tags:** First time, fluffy

There's a brief, paused moment when Gerard gets all the way inside him where Frank just thinks, _fuck._

And then it's the most bizarre thing, because the space between them is almost _awkward;_ his legs hitched high and neither of them speaking, Gerard's head dipped, both of them breathing hard. Frank's got his fingers tangled in the sheets by his sides, and Gerard's braced on his forearms, hair tickling Frank's chest. 

Frank both wants and doesn't want to meet his eyes, but he can't-- he's not going to pretend Gerard doesn't feel fucking incredible. It'd be too intense on its own, even if this looked like any of the pictures Frank's painted to himself alone in his bed with his hand on his cock, but like this, it's even worse. More.

He lets out a hushing, overwhelmed breath, tips his head back on the pillow. Frank knows he's kind of trembling; Gerard not moving and his weight pressing him down into the mattress, hips flush and sticky, the tension in his stomach doing nothing for the hard throb of his cock between their bellies.

He can't help but squirm a little, the barest of dips into his back, clenching up involuntarily and catching his lip in his teeth. And Gerard makes this _noise,_ the first, hard and half-choked.

 _Oh, god._ Frank brings his hand up hesitantly, touches Gerard's ear, cups him around the neck. He's kind of trembling too, Frank realizes, the tension in his arms alone bordering on painful to see. 

"Gee." He doesn't know why he's whispering, like talking too loudly will scare him away. Gerard's skin is hot under Frank's palm, pulse rapid against Frank's thumb. "Are. Can you--"

Gerard raises his head and looks at him and Frank's breath catches in his throat. Fuck, he _wants this._ Shocked dark eyes, mouth open, eyebrows screwed up; Frank would know it even without the evidence of it inside him. Not that he'd been doubting it anyway, exactly, but there's something like panic in Gerard's face too, that faraway look he gets when he doesn't understand something.

"Oh fuck," Frank breathes, other hand joining the first, hands around Gerard's jaw, fingers in his hair. "Come here."

Gerard nods kind of jerkily, lets Frank pull him down. They make out slow and hot, breathing hard against each other's mouths, Gerard's hair falling in Frank's face. It gets too much, too quick. Frank wants Gerard to fuck him, to pin him down by his wrists while he moves inside him, and every second Gerard _isn't_ the feeling of being filled intensifies, urging him to do ridiculous things like beg for it.

"You feel," Gerard whispers when Frank finally lets him pull back, panting, foreheads tipped together. "I--"

"Good?" Frank pants back, and Gerard nods again, eyes scrunched shut. Frank drifts a hand down Gerard's back, presses his lips to his ear. "You feel fucking huge."

The noise Gerard makes is muddled, strangled. " _Frank."_

His hips twitch and Frank hisses, grabbing a handful of Gerard's ass before he can stop himself. " _Yeah,_ yeah, come on. Fuck me."

"Oh, god," Gerard groans faintly, and drags his hips back. Slow, slow and Frank's gritting his teeth, fingers twisting in Gerard's hair. 

It's like Frank can't make up his mind, nails digging hard into the muscle of Gerard's ass, pulling him back forwards before he can slip out and choking out a noise of his own when Gerard bottoms out. Fuck, Gerard feels so good. Thick and deep, his stomach sliding over Frank's cock when he pulls back again.

Gerard meets his eyes wildly and Frank's quick to grit out, "S'good," hitching his thighs higher, urging with his heels. "More, harder, come on."

"I don't." Gerard shakes his head even as his hips kick, the barest hint of the real force Frank knows he's capable of. "I don't wanna hurt you."

Frank lets his jaw go slack, lets his face bare, free. Like he does on stage when there's fucking nothing he wants to hide. "I do."

There's a long moment where Gerard just looks at him, and Frank thinks he can see it, the moment Gerard gets it, comprehends, accepts. It comes right before he complies, folds Frank in half and goes for it, fucks into him hard and steady, getting bolder with every second. Every breathless, whimpering encouragement Frank gives him.

They're both bruised and aching by the end. Frank can't even _take_ the feeling of Gerard coming inside him, unfamiliar but fucking right, fucking perfect. He finishes himself off with Gerard's boneless weight pressing his knees into his chest, Gerard's hips still jerking against him, and it's second only to the first time Gerard kissed him offstage, those first frantic, messy handjobs in the back of the van.

Frank isn't ready to let him go, so he clings for a while, while they breathe hard through the afterglow. "Every day," he mumbles into Gerard's neck. "We are doing that _every day."_

"Don't have a hotel room every day," Gerard points out. Damn, his voice is rough. Rougher than Frank's, even. 

God, Frank wants to fuck him, too. "We still are, I don't even care."

"Mmm," Gerard hums, already half asleep, still inside him, and Frank's stomach kind of lurches.

Yeah, every day. They'll work something out.


	2. Untitled vibrator ficlet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For [bandom_meme](https://bandom-meme.dreamwidth.org/). 
> 
> **Prompt:** ' _Frank/Gerard, vibrator, overstimulation.'_
> 
>  **Tags:** Vibrator, overstimulation, rough sex

Gerard's not crying yet, but Frank thinks it's only a matter of minutes. 

His back is heaving under Frank's hand, breathing noisily against the sheets. Those high, thin, whimpering little sounds that he always tries to stifle are just starting to leak, catching on the end of his exhales, which means it's starting to get too much, starting to hurt.

Frank can imagine. It's big, this toy. Wide, heavy, and Frank's glad he can only imagine it. How deep it must be, the stretch and fullness on top of those vibrations, god, so strong Frank can feel them against his stomach, muted through his jeans, noise a dull hum.

Frank strokes Gerard's sweaty spine. "Does it hurt?"

Knuckles whitening, twisting in the sheets, Gerard nods fast. He's got his chest flat to the mattress, elbows locked, thighs spread wide, squirming and clawing like he's trying to get away from himself. Frank never gets tired of seeing Gerard like this. From his screwed-up face smushed sideways to the sharp, slutty arch of his back, ass up, asking for it. It's the stuff Frank's wet dreams are made of.

"God, you look good," Frank breathes. He slides his hand down Gerard's flushed back, fingertips stroking lightly around the base of the toy, the taut skin of Gerard's hole stretched around it. He can feel it even clearer now, the vibrations rippling through his hand and up his arm. "Like fucking _porn,_ so hot and desperate."

Gerard chokes a little, flinches away from Frank's touch. " _Ah--_ don't. _Don't,_ Frank, fuck."

Frank ignores him. He watches his own hand move down between Gerard's legs, palm skidding over his balls, cupping Gerard's straining cock around the thick leather strap. 

"You're so hard," he continues with something like awe. "So _big."_ He can feel Gerard's pulse in the base of his dick, vein bulging thick, head slick and leaking. "So-- _fuck._ You're so turned on, so close from this. Aren't you?"

"I--" Gerard hiccups out a groan, "I can't--" He turns his face into the sheets, cursing something muffled.

Frank smirks and clicks the button in the base of the vibe, kicking it up a level. Gerard's pained moan rings out loud as his head snaps back, whole body jerking and shoulders shaking. 

"Oh _fuck,_ no, stop, that's enough-- Frank, _stop."_

"It not getting you right?" Frank asks roughly, getting his own jeans open; no idea why he still has them on when Gerard's completely bare, so exposed for him. "'Cause I can fuck you with it if you like. Get it in deeper."

"Fuck, _no._ No, take it-- take it _out,_ motherfucker, I can't--" Gerard's hips are kicking sporadically, fucking the air, hands clenching. But he isn't saying the word that would end this, not even when Frank encircles his fingers around the base of the toy, applying pressure, angling it inside.

Gerard snaps tense instantly, thighs starting to tremble. Frank drags the toy out an inch, pushes it back in all the way. Out two inches, back in before three, four, and Frank's pretty sure Gerard's crying for real now, voice thick like he's sobbing. 

He gasps when Frank pulls the toy completely free, and then again when Frank gives him a playful smack on the ass, looking back at Frank with wide, wet, demanding eyes.

"Come on, Frankie, please," he says hoarsely, shoulders pressing into the mattress to raise his hips in invitation, and Frank can't stop fucking _looking._ At Gerard's thighs shiny with sweat, the way his ass is spread like that, hole puffy-pink and slick, used.

God, Frank can never say no to Gerard when he begs so obscenely.

He twists a hand in Gerard's red hair and pulls his head back, fucks him roughly, possessively, skin smacking and panting into each other's mouths. Gets his other hand under them, down between Gerard's legs where he's hard and pulsing against the cock ring.

Gerard comes the second Frank gets it off, all over Frank's hand and the sheets and his own stomach. Frank swears as Gerard tightens up, fucks him down into the mattress and comes with his sticky fingers shoved deep in Gerard's mouth.

"Fuck _me,"_ he moans when they're heaving against each other, slumped boneless over Gerard's back.

"Next time," Gerard's voice is muffled around Frank's fingers. 

Frank sniggers and slides them out, letting Gerard take a wheezing breath, moist and hot against Frank's hand as he takes it away. Gerard whimpers a little when Frank pulls out, and Frank can't help but touch, pressing his fingers between Gerard's cheeks where he's open and dripping, fingertips dipping inside just a little.

"Frank," Gerard's breath hitches, " _ah--_ come on, don't." 

His hips twitch away, oversensitive, and Frank thinks about fucking him again, retrieving the toy from the floor and sliding it into him, getting it slick with his own come. Thinks about turning it high and watching Gerard squirm; shit, Frank could get hard enough to fuck him again in no time, seeing him writhe around like that, sobbing and begging and keening from the overstimulation.

"Come here," Gerard huffs. Eyes hooded, mouth open, and Frank goes. 

Yeah, next time.


	3. Reserved

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For [anon_lovefest](https://anon-lovefest.livejournal.com/).
> 
>  **Prompt:** ' _Gerard/Frank infidelity kink. Frank likes to sleep around and Gerard is possessive/jealous, but they both get off on it.'_
> 
>  **Tags:** Consensual infidelity, angst, jealousy, rimming, rough sex

Frank gets home a good two hours later than usual, which in itself should be enough to tell Gerard something's off. But he's tired, slumped boneless on the couch watching _The Omen,_ and since Frank chooses to announce his presence by sneaking up on him and grabbing his shoulders right when the rapidly escalating dramatic music reaches its climax, there's little room for anything else in Gerard's mind except panic.

He lets out a garbled yell, jerking around and nearly falling embarrassingly out of his seat. When he scrambles up, he realizes he's not being attacked by the demonic spawn of Satan, but by Frank, who's leaning on the back of the couch and howling with laughter. Fucker.

"Fucker," Gerard snaps, snatching up a cushion and hitting Frank over the head with it. "Nearly gave me a fucking heart attack, asshole."

Frank stops laughing to catch his breath, grinning at Gerard's indignant face. "Sorry, couldn't resist."

Gerard glares at him, turning off the TV. Stretches, hands extending towards the ceiling, flexing the muscles in his shoulders out of stiffness. Frank watches him, still leaning against the back of the couch.

"You're late," Gerard states.

Frank's smile fades. "Yeah," he agrees, shrugging slightly. "I, um. Met someone."

Gerard lowers his arms. "Oh yeah?"

"Yeah," Frank says again. His expression is carefully impassive, and Gerard can tell he's putting a lot of effort into appearing casual. Which is odd, and Gerard is intrigued. Enough to forget his annoyance, even. 

"Someone new?"

Frank nods, fidgets. Barely noticeable, but Gerard catches it. "I met her in a bar. And before you say anything--" Frank holds up a hand when Gerard opens his mouth, "--I was only in there for smokes, I promise."

"I wasn't going to suggest otherwise," Gerard huffs, pretending to be offended. "I was just going to ask which bar."

Frank raises an eyebrow. "Why does that matter?"

"I'm just curious, Frank, Jesus," Gerard sighs. He pretends to engross himself with cleaning up the empty soda cans and various trash that's littered about the coffee table, talking offhandedly, "No need to get all defensive."

As expected, Frank takes the bait. "I'm not getting defensive!"

"Sure, okay," Gerard says offhandedly, like he's not really bothered either way. He deliberately doesn't look at Frank as he heads for the trashcan, and tries not to look too triumphant when Frank grabs his arm when he returns.

"The Monroe," Frank says, quiet and gruff. Gerard snorts with laughter. Frank scowls. "Shut up, it's not what you're thinking."

Gerard smirks. "You have no _idea_ what I'm thinking."

Frank punches him in the arm, harder than was probably necessary. "She's just a waitress, okay?"

Gerard stops laughing. "A waitress?" Gerard didn't even know The Monroe _had_ waitresses. At least, not real ones that actually wait tables. He's certainly never seen the stocking and suspender-clad girls walking around with notepads and trays of drinks.

"Yes, a waitress," Frank repeats stiffly. "She's working there a few nights a week, just until her new room mate finds a job."

Huh.

"Sounds like you had a really thorough chat with her," Gerard says evenly, watching Frank's face carefully.

Frank just shrugs, still failing to seem as casual and dismissive as he's so desperately trying to appear. He moves to pull off his jacket and toe off his shoes, and Gerard follows him into the bedroom, sitting on the edge of their bed. He's annoyed again, for reasons he can't quite define. He watches Frank start to shed his clothes instead, and plays along with his blasé game.

"Are you going to see her again?"

Frank yanks his shirt over his head, sending his hair into disarray. He doesn't look at Gerard as he distractedly runs a hand through it, says, "Dunno, maybe," as he steps out of his jeans. Gerard can sense the unspoken _drop it_ in the way Frank speaks, the way he moves around the room, closet to bedside table to open window.

"That's a yes, then," Gerard states dryly.

Frank doesn't answer, and it speaks volumes. It takes every inch of Gerard's self-control to keep calm, then. He watches Frank lean on his elbows against the windowsill, holding the flame of his lighter to the cigarette in his mouth behind a shielding palm. The Jack-o-lantern grins ominously at Gerard from between Frank's bare shoulderblades. It almost feels mocking, loud and brash inside Frank's irritating silence.

Gerard stands before really registering it. Frank's back visibly tenses. Three steps and Gerard is right behind him, close enough to see the hairs on the back of Frank's neck prickle. He watches his own hand rise, pale against the vibrant ink that engulfs Frank's left shoulder. Frank's entire body pulls taut under the barely-there touch of Gerard's fingertips tracing lines and color.

"What's her name?" Gerard asks, voice low and even.

There's a pause, and then, "It doesn't matter." Tight, strained, but Gerard catches the subtle way Frank's voice softens.

Gerard feels his lip curl. He hadn't wanted to believe it, but. Two hands now, one on each of Frank's arms in a façade of tenderness, smoothing palms up to shoulders. Frank is completely immobile under his touch, cigarette burning freely between his fingers. Gerard leans forward, mouth brushing Frank's ear, and he can tell Frank's holding his breath.

"And what did you two talk about, _hm?"_

Frank lets out a slow, shaky exhale. "Just. Just things."

Gerard bites back a snort. "I see." His palms glide over Frank's back, curving round to smooth over his stomach, Frank's skin pebbling with goosebumps in his wake. "Did you tell her about me?"

Frank swallows thickly. "No."

Gerard stills his hands. "No?"

"It-- it just never came up."

" _Liar."_ Gerard twists the soft flesh of Frank's belly hard between his fingers, and Frank jerks, cigarette falling from his fingers into the street below. Gerard yanks him flush against his chest with a bruising hold on his hips, spitting words angry and harsh, "Don't fucking lie to me, Frank. You didn't tell her because you _like her."_

Frank's head tips back, incredulous eyes burning defiantly into Gerard's. "What are you, twelve?"

Gerard sinks his teeth into the exposed arch of Frank's neck, and Frank hisses, twisting wildly in his grasp. Gerard holds firm, shoving him forwards and pinning him hard against the windowsill. 

He speaks while Frank's still wheezing, seething into Frank's ear. "I bet you didn't even fuck her, did you? She was far too good for that, I assume?"

"Fuck you," Frank gets out, but he's not struggling anymore. His torso heaves under Gerard's, spine curved and hips arching, rubbing his ass back against Gerard's crotch. Being hard is unsettling, but predictable. Gerard hadn't even noticed.

"I told you," Gerard growls against Frank's hair, hand coming up to encircle Frank's throat, "always telling you, Frank-- you can fuck whoever you like, I don't give a shit what you do to get off. But when it comes to _you,"_ his other hand slides down the back of Frank's underwear, waistband catching against his knuckles, "there's nobody else. Nobody but me, do you understand?"

"You get off on it," Frank chokes out, throat vibrating in protest against Gerard's constricting fingers.

It's not a question. They've never voiced it aloud, but they both knew it regardless. Ever since that time Frank came home and Gerard fucked him hard over the back of the couch with his teeth clamped brutally deep into the puce bruises littering Frank's neck.

Fuck it, Gerard isn't ashamed to admit when he's jealous. Only, this time, it's not--

When Frank returns smelling of cheap perfume, Gerard has him against the tiles of the shower wall under the pour of almost-scalding water, until the steam mounts thick and air tastes humid. When he spots the garish lipstick on Frank's collar; the light, semi-transparent stains splattering the front of his hoodie, it's so, so easy to strip him down, lay him out in his bare, unblemished skin and fuck him against the friction burn on the bedroom carpet.

But this-- maybe it's totally fucked that they're still doing this, but in all honesty Gerard doesn't think he could handle it any other way, not sure he would even know how.

He closes his eyes briefly, inhales deep. "Yeah, I get off on it." He tugs Frank's underwear down, the material bunching up around Frank's knees, caught by the wide spread of his legs. "All those people that want you, all those pathetic, nameless faces that think they've _had_ you--" he's almost vehement as he drops to his knees, jeering out the words, "when really, they never even came close."

Frank's breath stutters, tattooed knuckles turning white with the grip he has on the windowsill. He lets out a groan of anticipation when Gerard's mouth presses against the bottom of his spine, head dropping heavily into his forearms. 

Gerard murmurs deadly against his skin, palms sliding up the back of Frank's thighs, "I mean, how many of them had you like this, Frankie?" Hands spreading Frank open, fingertips digging hard into tense muscle. "How many didn't you imagine were me?"

"Gee," Frank starts, but Gerard doesn't want to hear it. Nothing resolves things like this does, Frank's trembling thighs under Gerard's hands and his breathless moans under the slick drag of Gerard's tongue. "Oh. Oh _fuck."_

This is Gerard's favorite part, making Frank come undone beneath his hands. He's the only one who gets to see Frank like this, raw and needy and utterly shameless. Couldn't say how, exactly, he knows it's something reserved only for himself, but he does. Just like he couldn't explain how he knows the only reason Frank does what he does (not the sleeping around, never that; but the _flaunting,_ all those subtle ways he rubs it in Gerard's face) is for this. 

Because, yeah. Frank gets off on this just as much as he does.

Gerard pulls back, rises to his feet. Frank's breathing hard into the crook of his elbow, shoulders slumped and neck slack. God, he's so fucking gorgeous like this, exposed and needy. Body bent in the most enticing angle, pressed up against the window ledge with legs spread wide and cock leaking against his belly. Something so dangerous should be illegal.

"God. You're so pretty." It's not a compliment, comes out more accusatory than appreciative. Gerard sticks his fingers in his mouth, slicks them well. "Too pretty. Too fucking beautiful for your own good."

Frank says nothing. He speaks with his body instead, pushing back against the press of Gerard's fingers, fucking himself on them. It's not demanding, he just knows what he deserves. Eager, certainly, but not demanding. That's not something he has any right to be.

Gerard doesn't waste time. He takes his fingers away as quick as he gave them, undoing his belt buckle, yanking his jeans open. Leaves them bunched around his thighs as he spits in his palm to slick himself, pulls Frank roughly onto his cock. 

Even then, Frank doesn't speak. Just grunts lowly, arching his back to take Gerard deep on the first thrust, breathing deep and noisy through his open mouth. He likes it though, Gerard knows. Relishes the hurt from the lack of preparation, the burn from the brutal, unrelenting pace Gerard sets.

Gerard fucks him hard, until he's got Frank all but crushed against the ledge from knee to chest, skin slapping loud and obscene. Everything's hot and feral and his hands are bruising on Frank's hips, jerking him down into each push until Frank's hissing, fumbling a frantic hand under himself and coming all over the wall, his own stomach. Gerard doesn't last long after that, the clenching tightness of Frank's body pulling him into his own orgasm with a violent snarl.

They sag against the ledge, when it's over. They're both breathing hard, Gerard's shirt plastered against the damp of Frank's bare back, breeze from the still-open window pleasant on his overheated skin. He thinks he says something, or maybe Frank does, but all that registers is how dry his mouth feels, how hoarse his voice is. It doesn't matter anyway, now.

Later on, when the strange, tense mood has sunken back into their usual normality, Gerard will lie awake and wonder if Frank could hear the roaring in his ears, or if that was also something reserved just for himself.


	4. What You Want

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For [anon_lovefest](https://anon-lovefest.livejournal.com/).
> 
>  **Prompt:** ' _Frank/Gerard, crossdressing. Preferably Gerard wearing black silk panties. Bonus points for rimming, frottage and fucking with the panties still on.'_
> 
>  **Tags:** Crossdressing/lingerie, dirty talk, frottage, rimming, wet & messy/comeshots

The panties are rich black silk, shiny and contrasting stark against Gerard's paleness. They're cut more modestly than a thong, but they still arc up nicely over Gerard's hipbones, clinging to every subtle curve. Frank could almost say they're wearing Gerard except for the way Gerard carries himself in them; the casual cock of a hip, thighs spread, the sway they put in his step.  
  
Frank doesn't know where to look. He watches Gerard stand bare in front of the mirror, watches him fidget in place and pace a little, liquid smirk gradually bleeding onto his mouth as he gets a feel for them. It's not even for Frank's benefit, not really, but that doesn't seem to matter. The translator between Frank's eyes and his brain (and his dick) can't seem to find a distinction from teasing anyway.  
  
"Gerard," Frank says, shifting restlessly where he's sat on the edge of the bed. "Come here."  
  
Gerard turns his face towards Frank, eyes lidded and shining, eyebrow quirked. "Huh? You want something?"  
  
"Fucker," Frank says, only half-playful. Gerard's like a superhero; slip him in a costume and it's like he's a whole new person, except for the fact he'll still be recognizable to Frank's eyes.  
  
Gerard's lips quirk to match his eyebrow. "That a yes? 'Cause I gotta tell ya," he's approaching the bed with slow, deliberate steps and a voice to match, "it sure sounds like one, babe."  
  
Frank almost wants to laugh at the completely over the top theatrical seduction, but, like always, can't quite manage it. It's the same when Gerard breaks it out on stage, when Frank watches him sashay about and moan and feel himself up, carrying on with such pornographic obscenity it borders on ridiculous. But though Frank may feel the smile twitching at his lips, it can never quite break through. Because, yeah. _Damn_.  
  
Gerard's standing in front of him like a porn spread splashed over two pages, feet spread and shoulders back, and Frank feels like he could sit here looking forever and he'd never take it all in. "Come here," he repeats, quieter.  
  
Gerard looks down at him steadily, tucking his teeth coyly over the edge of his bottom lip. "What do you want, Frankie?"  
  
Frank looks at Gerard's neck, his eyes, hips, thighs, mouth, and doesn't know where to even _start_. Mindlessly, he reaches for Gerard, palms against the soft skin of his waist, pulling him forwards until he's stood between Frank's spread knees.  
  
"I want--" Frank falters, distracted by the line of the panties curving under the slight swell of Gerard's little belly, that fleshiness Frank's glad he couldn't quite get rid of. "I want."  
  
"You want me?" Gerard asks, not quite teasing, his hands hot on Frank's shoulders through Frank's shirt. "You wanna take me like this?"  
  
Frank breathes hard, heart thudding, and can't even answer. He leans in to get his mouth on Gerard's stomach instead, feeling it pull taut at the touch of his tongue. Gerard tastes like warm skin and sweat, a hint of that stupid flowery shower gel he stole from Mikey. Frank groans under his breath, pressing hot, wet, open-mouthed kisses everywhere he can reach.  
  
Gerard's fingers dig into Frank's shoulders, his voice gone breathy, "You wanna fuck me in my little girl panties, Frankie? Is that what you want?"  
  
Frank tightens his grip on Gerard's hips and yanks forwards sharply. Gerard jerks as his knees hit the edge of the bed, gasps as Frank buries his face in his skin, winding his arms around Frank's shoulders. Frank exhales hotly against Gerard's stomach, dragging his mouth down until he's teasing at the waistband of the panties with his tongue, tucking his fingers under the elastic. They're a simple design, no frills or pattern except for a single small, grey bow sitting center-front, and they're kind of driving Frank crazy. He can't decide if he wants to leave them on or rip them off with his _teeth_.  
  
"You wanna fuck me when I'm all done up?" Gerard's muttering breathlessly by Frank's ear. "Smear my lipstick with your cock? Get me against a wall or a table and hike up my skirt-- could even leave these on if you wanted, just pulled aside like a desperate slut, maybe out where anyone could find us, in an alley, behind the bus, maybe backstage--"  
  
Frank snaps like a gunshot, grabbing Gerard hard and shoving him around onto the bed, reversing their positions. Gerard's strangled noise of surprise is lost in Frank's mouth because Frank is on him in an instant, pushing Gerard's thighs apart roughly and pressing their hips together. They're both hard, and Frank can't help but rut against him, hissing a little as his cock chafes against denim.  
  
"You're--" Frank pants between messy kisses that Gerard returns eagerly, "you're fucking--"  
  
"Amazing?" Gerard laughs breathlessly against Frank's mouth, pushing up against him like a wave, tugging impatiently at Frank's shirt. "Incredible? Just generally awesome in every way imaginable?"  
  
"Fucking _cocky_ ," Frank huffs, pulling back just enough to yank his shirt over his head before diving back in to mar Gerard's gorgeous white neck with a sizeable purple smudge. Gerard gasps and arches, head tipping back and fingernails digging into Frank's biceps when Frank bites down, thighs trembling where they're hitched up around Frank's hips.  
  
"Frank," Gerard grits out, fisting a hand in Frank's hair and pulling, hard. " _Frank_."  
  
Frank reluctantly releases Gerard's flesh, breathing hard as he pulls back to see Gerard's face. Gerard's eyes are wide and dark, crooked mouth slack and wet, his neon red hair wild and twisted against the hotel pillows. "Take off your pants," he tells Frank, voice low.  
  
Frank stares at him for a moment, white noise in his ears, before practically falling over himself to obey. He sits up on his knees to get his jeans open, shoves them down with his underwear and throws them aside. And then suddenly he's just as naked as Gerard (because Frank can't see that underwear as anything but completely indecent.)  
  
He pauses to take it all in-- Gerard sprawled out on the bed under him, the vast expanse of usually-pale skin flushed with sweat and need, broken up only by the bold, lightless black framing his hips. The panties look tighter now, bulging obscenely at the front with the way Gerard's hard cock is straining against the silk. Frank can see that they're already damp, the material clinging with the way Gerard's leaking inside them.  
  
"God, you're so hot," Frank breathes, smoothing his hands up Gerard's thighs until he's cupping his hips, soft fabric under his palms. "So fucking hot, sometimes I don't even know where to _start_ with the things I want to do to you."  
  
Gerard grins wickedly at him. "Need some ideas?"  
  
Frank swears and lowers himself back into Gerard's embrace, kissing him slower now, deep and heated. Gerard touches his face, his jaw, winds his fingers back into Frank's hair to tug the way he likes it, other hand hooked under the curve of Frank's ass to pull their hips together firmly. Frank groans at the feeling of his bare cock sliding slick and hot in the crease of Gerard's thigh, catching against the silk, the heat of Gerard's cock against his stomach.  
  
"You could, _ah_ \--" Gerard's breath is hitching in Frank's ear, "could just do it like this, just rub yourself off all over them, make a real fuckin' _mess_."  
  
"Shut up," Frank gasps into Gerard's shoulder. "Oh my god, just--"  
  
"Could fuck my mouth, jerk yourself off on my face-- doesn't matter if you come, y'know I can get you hard again, and then, _ah_ \-- you can fuck me, Frankie, _god_ \-- want you to fuck me, wanna come in these fucking panties with your cock in my ass--"  
  
"Fuck, _fuck_ ," Frank spits, pulling his hips back to fumble a hand between them, hooking his thumb under the elastic edge around Gerard's leg and slipping his cock under the panties. It only takes a couple of sloppy thrusts against Gerard's hot skin and the damp silk before Frank's coming, spurting against Gerard's cock and soaking the fabric.  
  
" _God_ , do you ever fucking shut up," Frank pants, once he's stopped shaking enough to speak. Gerard's fingers trail down his sweaty spine and even though he just came his brains out, Frank wants to arch up into it like a cat.  
  
"Can't say you seemed to really mind, Iero," Gerard mutters darkly, nibbling at Frank's ear like the fucking tease he is. He's tense as a guitar string beneath Frank, twitchy and breathing heavily, so turned on Frank can almost taste it.  
  
"Turn over," Frank whispers heatedly, getting his collapsed knees back under himself and letting his softening cock slip free of Gerard's ruined underwear. The silk is sodden and plastered flat against Gerard's dick, and the way it highlights the shape of it is profanely filthy, all that feminine luxuriousness perverted beyond recognition. Frank's cock twitches at the sight, and he briefly laments Gerard always being right about him, about this.  
  
Gerard doesn't move at first, defiant arousal burning in his eyes. "You figured out what you want, Frankie?" he drawls. "Know what you want to do to me now?"  
  
"What about what _you_ want, Gerard?" Frank throws back at him, dipping his head to close his mouth over Gerard's right nipple, flicking his tongue against the hardened nub. Now that the edge is off, Frank is content to play with Gerard like this, take his time.  
  
"Fuck, you know what I want," Gerard grits out, pushing up against Frank's mouth like he just can't help it. "I just fucking _told you_. Now I want _you_ to tell _me_."  
  
Frank pulls off, tips his head lightly against Gerard's. "I want what you want," he says quietly, and kisses Gerard quickly before he can protest that that's not the same. "I wanna make you feel good. I wanna make you come." He kisses Gerard's cheek, his forehead, the sensitive skin under his ear. "I'm gonna do what we both want, Gee. But I wanna fuck you with my tongue first, so _turn over_."  
  
Gerard stares at him for a moment, jaw slack and chest rising, before he breaks into a half-smile, tongue running slowly over his bottom lip. "See," he says thickly, almost choked, "was that so hard?" And then he's shifting, rolling over onto his front and spreading his legs.  
  
Frank wants to laugh, but he forces it down and slaps Gerard hard across the ass instead, right on the meaty curve at the top of his thigh, just below the line of the panties. Gerard jerks and moans, arching up into it, and Frank can't help but smirk. Kneeling between Gerard's spread thighs, Frank slides his palms down Gerard's pale back, following the dip of spine until he hits waistband.

The lingerie is doing incredible things for Gerard's ass, hugging the firm curves just right; Frank can't resist groping him a little; enjoying the soft, fluid texture of the silk, still mostly dry on this side. The way the ink on his hands looks against that shiny black. He fans his hands over Gerard's ass, thumbs meeting in the center, digging into the give of flesh to rub lightly up and down, teasing.  
  
Gerard's holding himself perfectly still, shoulders stiff and hair splayed over the pillow where he's buried his face, exposing the long line of his nape. When Frank increases the pressure, presses his thumbs outwards to lick between them, Frank hears his muffled exhale, the way it catches in his throat. Gerard always makes the most incredible noises when Frank does this, even when Frank has yet to actually touch him without cloth in the way.

Frank keeps licking, over and over until his chin is wet and the silk is even darker, just in that one vertical line, saliva-soaked material clinging in the cleft of Gerard's ass. Pulls back to press a kiss to the back of Gerard's neck, listening to him breathe for a moment, his soft pants and tense stillness the strangest contrast from the cocky bravado of earlier.  
  
"Up," Frank murmurs, hooking his fingers under the elastic edges over Gerard's hips, urging him to rise up just enough to pull the underwear down. He gets them over the curve of Gerard's ass and leaves them bunched up around his thighs, wrinkled, stained and thoroughly filthy.  
  
It satisfies Frank that Gerard is looking so debauched. He whimpers when Frank holds him open and leans down to gently blow over him where he's wet from the panties; moans when Frank starts to lick, imitating what he did before, except now Frank has Gerard's bare skin under his mouth instead of luxury silk. He knows which he prefers.  
  
" _Ah_ , _ah_ , Frankie, fuck," Gerard pants, voice pitching up, and Frank suddenly realizes he's hard again. "Come on," Gerard says, but Frank ignores him, digging his thumbs into Gerard's flesh, spreading him wider so he can start to fuck his tongue in properly, hard and fast until Gerard starts to shake, hips twitching against the bed.  
  
"No." Frank does pull away then, swiping his thumb over his bottom lip. "Get on your knees," he says, stronger than he feels right now, the heat in his belly starting to coil up again.  
  
Thankfully, there's no smartass comments, no hesitance. Gerard practically scrambles to get his knees under himself, and Frank almost swallows his tongue at the sight of him braced on his elbows with his ass in the air, knees spread as far as the twisted lingerie will allow. Frank can see the way it's digging in to Gerard's skin when he shifts, lines of angry red slashed across Gerard's thighs.  
  
Frank exhales shakily and plasters himself over Gerard's back, so his cock is pressed hot and slick in the split of Gerard's ass. He buries his face in Gerard's messy hair, their chests rising and falling in tandem, and asks, "Lube?"  
  
Gerard slides a hand under the pillow and fumbles the tube back at him, and Frank takes it with slightly unsteady hands, getting it all over the sheets as he spreads it over himself. Gerard likes fingers, likes being worked up to more, but he doesn't _need_ it. Especially when he's like this, flushed and desperate and untouched, nearly on the edge already. Frank doesn't waste any time lining himself up and pressing forwards, groaning as minimal resistance gives way to tight, clenching heat.  
  
Gerard lets out a strangled moan, fingers twisting in the sheets. "Yeah, oh _yeah_ , that's it, that's--"  
  
Frank sinks his teeth into Gerard's unmarked shoulder and Gerard's words cut off with a pained cry, hips bucking back onto Frank's cock and _shit_ , this isn't going to last long at all. Frank presses his forehead between Gerard's shoulderblades and starts to move, fingers digging into Gerard's hipbones hard enough there'll be bruises later, and he knows he's making a whole lot of noise but all he can hear is Gerard. His heavy breaths and the gorgeous needy sounds he's making, intercut with profanity.  
  
Frank straightens up for better leverage, his breath momentarily taken away by how slutty Gerard looks like this, up on his knees with his come-soaked girl panties stretched obscenely around his thighs, pulled down just enough for Frank's cock. It's that sight that brings Frank off, eyes raking down the line of Gerard's spine until he's watching himself slide in and out of Gerard's ass, seeing ruined black silk every time he pulls his hips back.

He rides out the first few pulses inside but pulls out to finish all over Gerard's ass, grunting as he strokes himself through it, pleasure spiking as he watches his come slide down the backs of Gerard's thighs and catch against the twisted elastic.  
  
"Fuck," Frank gasps, "Gee, _fuck,_ I--"  
  
"Fingers," Gerard chokes out, trembling, "come on, fucking, give me--"  
  
Frank shoves Gerard over onto his back and slides down to swallow his cock, pushing his legs back and thrusting three fingers into his ass at the same time. The sticky fabric stretched between Gerard's thighs cuts across Frank's chest, stopping him from going as deep as he wants, but it doesn't matter. Frank fucks Gerard hard with his fingers, easy and wet with his own come, crooking them inside the way he knows Gerard likes as he rubs his tongue firmly against the head of Gerard's cock.  
  
When Gerard comes with a violent shudder Frank pulls off and lets it hit the underside of his chin, streaking across his neck, before rearing up to kiss the moans from Gerard's mouth, tasting salt and heat. They're both disgusting, smelly and sticking together, covered in sweat and come, and Frank absolutely does not _care_.

He sprawls out on the bed, pulling Gerard half on top of him, ignoring the way the ravaged panties chafe against his thighs. They kiss until the adrenaline starts to settle, until the blissful euphoria has dampened down into pleasant bonelessness, and then one of Frank's favorite activities, cuddling, can begin. After he's retrieved two cigarettes from the bedside table, obviously.  
  
"Jesus Christ," Frank says after they've smoked in silence for a while, leaning into the arm Gerard has around him and blowing smoke at the ceiling. "That was fucking _awesome_."  
  
"Mmm," Gerard hums, nuzzling at Frank's hair a little, so Frank hears it as a vibration in his ear. "Though I think the panties have seen better days."  
  
"Fuck yeah, they're done for," Frank agrees, poking at the barely recognizable underwear that's still hooked around Gerard's thigh. Apparently Gerard only had strength enough to get one leg out of them. "We'll have to go on Victoria's Secret tonight and buy you more."  
  
Gerard attempts to ash into the ashtray Frank has balanced on his chest, which of course means it ends up all over Frank instead. "Y'know," he says thoughtfully, "they have garter belts and shit on there too. Stockings. Corsets."  
  
Frank inhales badly and coughs, smoke burning in his throat. "Oh yeah?" he rasps, as nonchalantly as he can.  
  
"Yeah," Gerard confirms, and Frank doesn't even have to look to know he's grinning.  
  
"Fucker," Frank tells him for the second time, and gets up to shower, all the while very pointedly _not_ thinking about what Gerard would look like as a stripteasing Burlesque dancer.


	5. Go Ahead, Go Low

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For [bandom_meme](https://bandom-meme.dreamwidth.org/).
> 
>  **Prompt:** ' _Frank/always-a-girl!Gerard, assholes in love. Bonus points for cunnilingus/multiple orgasms!'_
> 
>  **Tags:** Genderswap, asshole!fic, cunnilingus, multiple orgasms, rough sex

Gee's always been hard to impress, but Frank thinks this is kind of ridiculous.  
  
"Eh," she pants when she finally lets Frank's face up from between her legs, fingers loosening the death-grip she had on his hair, hand falling away to scrape languidly through her own grease-slick hair instead. "Not bad."  
  
Frank stares up at her. She's spread out on her back on the bed like a post-coital starfish; slick with sweat, skin flushed and shining, head tipped indulgently back. Naked except for her jacket, that ugly, half-dilapidated, black leather thing. She was wearing it the first time Frank watched My Chem play, the first time he trudged down her basement stairs, the first time she shoved him up against a wall and kissed him.  
  
And she's wearing it now, right now when Frank just made her come three times in a row. This isn't the first time _that's_ happened, but it is the first time Gee's ever shown up at his hotel room door wearing the jacket with nothing on underneath.  
  
"Fuck you," Frank says, kind of half-serious, actually. Because _seriously_ , what the fuck, her fucking cunt is all over his face and she looks about ready to pass out. But Gee just laughs, all throaty and fucked-out in the back of her throat, and opens one black-smudged eye, peering down at him lazily.  
  
"If you like," she says casually, like her thighs aren't still hitched over Frank's shoulders, like the leather isn't visibly sticking to her tits-- and what fucking _tits_ , God, was Frank annoyed? He's too turned-on to remember, now.  
  
"Yeah," he says roughly, getting up on his knees, swiping a forearm vaguely over his mouth. Gee's legs fall back to the mattress, splayed open, cunt swollen and soaked from his mouth; she lets him look, doesn't try to curl or pull him up like some of the other girls Frank's been with. When Frank meets her eyes she's just watching him, steadily, eyebrow raised the barest amount, like, _yeah?_ And Frank wants every inch of her, from her filthy hair to the soft, spilling flesh of her hips.  
  
She grins at him as he swears and wrestles with his belt, leather creaking as her hands move slowly over the curves of her own body, playing with her nipples a little. It isn't for Frank. He thought it was at first, figured after too many finger-biting (Frank's, not Gee's) and mic-sucking incidents that teasing was one of her favorite pastimes, but now he knows better. Now he knows that three times is a _warm up._  
  
"Fuck me," she spits when Frank's braced over her, her heels sliding over his bare ass, panting in each other's faces. She's got an elfin face but a vicious mouth; a sharp, searing tongue to go with those long eyelashes. "Hard, motherfucker, I mean it. Don't hold back."  
  
Another thing Frank knows now is that Gee means it, too. She doesn't bullshit. Even when she's not drunk.  
  
"I fucking love you," Frank grits out as he yanks her hips towards him, and he has to moan when he gets inside her. She's just too fucking much, hot and tight around him, so wet and slick between their bodies, smeared all over Frank's stomach and the insides of her thighs. Her deep, undignified, utterly filthy groan when their hips meet fast has him gritting his fucking teeth, god, Frank could come right now. He could come _yesterday_.  
  
Except he couldn't, because Gee's grabbing fistfuls of his hair and back and snapping her hips up like a threat, and Frank has no rhythm, technique, at all. He rams into her as hard and as fast as he can, until all he can hear is their skin slapping and the buckles of her jacket clinking and her grunts of satisfaction, so close he's almost sobbing into her neck. She bites down when she comes, and when Frank follows her into it, emerges blearily out the other side, her teeth are stained red and his shoulder is throbbing angrily.  
  
It's fucking perfect. Gee kisses him sloppily until he's soft inside her before she lets him pull out. She likes to pretend she isn't one for the cuddly shit, but she only protests for about a minute before relenting and letting Frank spoon up against her, the jacket in a damp, crumpled heap on the floor.  
  
It's only temporary anyway. He smokes a cigarette, licks sweat off her stomach, and raises a questioning eyebrow at her, grinning.  
  
She smirks back at him, ashing her own cigarette onto the floor. "Ten minutes."


	6. Ain't Nothing But A Label

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For [anon_lovefest](https://anon-lovefest.livejournal.com/).
> 
>  **Prompt:** ' _Frank voyeurism. He totally thought Gerard was straight, until he sees him getting fucked by some random dude. And sticks around to watch.'_
> 
>  **Tags:** Accidental voyeurism, masturbation

Frank's taking a nap in his bunk when he hears it. Thumps and bumps, the rhythmic squeaking of shitty sofa springs. The breathless, strained, completely unmistakable noises of people fucking. They're so loud they somehow managed to wake Frank up even through a week's worth of inadequate sleep make-up time.  
  
Frank's first thought is he's fucking pissed. He isn't a prude, he doesn't care if the guys bring people back here, but this was _planned_ , damn it. They all knew he was going to be in here sleeping today, _k_ _now_ how quickly sleep deprivation can turn into illness for him, and they'd all agreed Frank should spend a day alone, to rest and recuperate.  
  
Well, okay. Frank had mainly just bitched at Ray until he'd finally agreed to keep the Way brothers away from the bus for the day, but the point still stands; Frank is fucking exhausted and somebody is being an unbelievably inconsiderate asshole.  
  
He flings himself out of his bunk. At this point he doesn't even care what he's about to interrupt. He feels half-dizzy with exhaustion, riled up and irritable. Motherfuckers will just have to deal. He starts towards the lounge, the source of the noises, but stops dead when a loud, throaty moan sounds out from the other side of the door.  
  
And... what the fuck?  
  
Was that-- was that _Gerard?_  
  
So, okay, it's not like Frank's never heard Gerard having sex before. They've practically lived on top of each other for almost a decade, how could he not? But Frank has never in his life heard _that_ noise come from Gerard. Not during the old days of basements and random houses, not recently through the hotel room walls, and not even just filtering out through the curtains late at night, when they're all alone in their bunks.  
  
Not that Frank listens, or anything. Sometimes these things are just unavoidable.  
  
So this unfamiliar noise makes Frank pause. He's approaching the door slowly now, anger evaporating into curiosity. The door between the bunks aisle and the lounge isn't fully closed, resting on the jam, and Frank's putting his eye to the crack before he's fully considered the implications of what he's about to do.  
  
What he sees definitely illustrates the reality of that well.  
  
Gerard is on the couch, his back to Frank, straddling some guy Frank thinks he vaguely recognizes; one of the techs, maybe? Frank can't remember his name. The guy's slouched low in the seat, pants bunched around his knees, feet spread wide on the floor. And Gerard's in his lap, naked from the waist down, that stupid ratty black armless number that lost its right to be called a shirt a couple of weeks ago clinging to his torso.  
  
_And they're fucking._  
  
Or, more specifically, the guy is fucking Gerard. His hands are tight around Gerard's bare hips, pulling him into each upward thrust of his own; not just letting it happen, despite how hard Gerard is riding him. And he _is_ , shit, he's really going for it, hips rocking fast and frantic, fucking himself on the guy's dick. His hands are braced on the back of the couch, head hanging between his arms, so Frank can't see his face.  
  
Frank can hear him, though. Both of them are breathing hard, but Gerard is making these _noises._ Desperate, gasping, slutty noises that quite frankly border on _pornographic_ , and Frank--  
  
Well, Frank kind of feels like the bottom just dropped out of his stomach. While it's true Gerard has never exactly acted like the pinnacle of heterosexuality, Frank was always under the impression that, at the end of the day, when it _really_ came down to it, Gerard was basically, you know. _Straight_. After all, Gerard has never seriously asserted anything to the contrary; has had girlfriends, but never dated a guy (Bert doesn't count, that guy just has a talent for getting what he wants from people. Not to mention how Gerard was totally fucked up at the time, probably didn't even know what he was doing.) And, as far as Frank knows (and he's pretty sure he would know) never got freaky with one off-stage, aside from meaningless sloppy makeouts. And maybe a drunken handjob or two, whatever.  
  
Frank certainly can't recall from the millions of conversations they've had Gerard saying _anything_ about a love of taking it in the ass.  
  
But no, apparently that is indeed something he enjoys. And that's all fine and dandy, except what the fuck is Frank supposed to do with that information? Because yeah, he isn't exactly the straightest of dudes either, and what, is he just supposed to act like he hasn't been lusting after Gerard since forever, only never making a move because of that (apparently idiotic) assumption that _Gerard is straight?_  
  
_But fucking a guy doesn't automatically mean you're not-straight_ , says a suspiciously Gerard-like voice in Frank's head. _Maybe he is, and just, you know, likes screwing guys every now and then, or something_. Which, okay, at any other time that might have been something of a comfort. But right now, when Frank has the perfect fucking view of Gerard's asshole stretched around this guy's dick?  
  
Yeah, Frank tells that voice to fuck right off.  
  
And he kind of feels like telling Gerard that too, despite the fact he doesn't really have the right to be pissed anymore. _He's_ the one spying on his best friend having sex, after all. Getting turned on by it, even.  
  
Fuck, that's an understatement; in the time Frank's been stood here he's tented his boxers up like he's pitching a fucking tent. And he can't even work up any shame about it, not when Gerard is so obscenely devoid of it himself. _God_ , he's seriously like something out of a porno. The dirty, fluid way he moves his hips, moaning every time he takes the guy to the hilt, like he can't get enough of it.  
  
Maybe he can't. Neither one of them are touching Gerard's dick. Maybe that's all he needs. Maybe nothing gets Gerard off better than a hard cock in his ass.  
  
Fuck.  
  
Before Frank can stop himself he's shoving a hand into his underwear, clamping the other over his mouth as he wraps his fingers around himself. He's got his eye pressed right against the crack in the door, leaning heavily against the frame, straining to see as much as he can. Gerard's got his head thrown back now, panting at the ceiling, and Frank sees his face for the first time. It's the perfect picture of ecstasy, all tightly drawn eyebrows and scrunched up nose and slack jaw. That desperate, almost-grimace of pleasure. Frank's seen the expression before plenty of times on various people, in the flesh and not, but like so many other things, somehow Gerard makes it seem unique.  
  
Frank can't look away. His eyes rake down the line of Gerard's arching spine and quickly get stuck to the filthy-hot image of the tech's latex-coated cock sliding in and out of him, Gerard's skin pink and raw where he's stretched around it, shiny-slick with lube. Or maybe spit? Frank wants to know. Did the guy finger Gerard first, taking his time stretching him out, slowly working him up until he begged for it? Or was it faster, Gerard shoving the guy down on the couch, fucking himself on his own hastily spit-coated fingers before sinking down rough and impatient?  
  
Maybe there was no prep. Maybe Gerard just spit in his hand and jerked the guy over the rubber a few times, got him wet to the barest minimum and then impaled himself, relishing the burn, the hurt. Maybe that's how he likes it.  
  
Frank exhales shakily, pulling hard on his cock as all the filthy possibilities flash through his mind. He's struggling to keep himself quiet, panting hot and damp against his own palm. Gerard's stopped rising now, just rocking back and forth in the guy's lap instead. Keeping the cock inside him as deep as it can go, working it inside of himself. He's whimpering, thin and high-pitched in his throat, head lowered and the long line of his nape sweat-shiny and gorgeous with strands of red hair plastered against it.  
  
The guy grunts, hips kicking up, and Frank sees his fingers tighten on Gerard's hips, the smudges of puce they've littered over his pale skin. Frank feels a stab of something thick and vicious in his chest, and he grits his teeth, hand tightening around his cock. He tries to force himself to ignore the tech and concentrate on Gerard instead. The shift of those newly developed muscles in his thighs and arms; the full, firm curves of his ass, his increasingly desperate noises.

He's close, Frank can tell. And Frank's right there with him, dick wet and throbbing in his hand as he jerks himself to Gerard's pace, biting hard on his own fingers.  
  
Frank suddenly wishes he could see Gerard's cock, hard and flushed and slapping against his belly with every thrust of his hips, untouched and leaking. Frank thinks if he were where the tech is he'd have to touch Gerard, wouldn't be able to help himself. He'd just want to get him off, get him to moan Frank's name and come so hard he'd be a total mess. Frank can see it so clearly; Gerard post-coital and oversensitive, whimpering as Frank fucks up into him and gasping when Frank comes inside him, trembling in Frank’s lap as he fills him up inside.  
  
Noise slips through Frank's fingers, uncontrolled and too-loud, but before he can panic Gerard's whining and throwing his head back, hips jerking violently as he starts to come. Frank catches a glimpse of it splattering over the tech's chest before the guy's groaning and pulling Gerard down, burying his face in Gerard's shoulder as his hips rut up hard against his ass. Gerard's voice breaks on a stuttered, half-choked noise, but it's the sight of his fingers clenching hard against the back of the couch, knuckles whitening as the guy pulses in his ass, that pushes Frank over the edge.  
  
It takes every inch of willpower Frank has not to cry out. He has to shove practically his whole fist into his mouth to get through it, and the instant it's over he's backing away from the door like it's burned him, breathing hard and trying not to fall over himself as he stumbles back down the aisle. He reaches his bunk and falls clumsily into it, rolling onto his back and panting into the enclosed darkness, feeling almost delirious with adrenaline and panic and euphoria.  
  
He doesn't think they heard him, they were too wrapped up in it. But what if they heard him backing away, heard him climb into his bunk? Can he really just pretend to be asleep and deny everything if they come looking?  
  
_Holy fucking shit_ , can Frank really look Gerard in the eye after this and act like he doesn't know what he looks like when he's getting fucked--  
  
"Frank?"  
  
Frank freezes. Gerard is right outside his bunk and Frank is still wearing his disgusting sticky come-filled boxers that he jerked himself off in while secretly spying on Gerard riding and jizzing all over a tech, _oh god_ , just kill him now--  
  
"Frank, I know you're awake."  
  
Frank swallows hard, tries to force his voice into a tone at least halfway approaching normal. "Um. Yeah? I mean." He coughs, mentally slapping himself in the face. "What's up?"  
  
For a long, horrible moment Gerard is totally silent on the other side of the curtain. If Frank wasn't on the verge of hyperventilating he thinks he'd be able to hear Gerard breathing. He suddenly wonders if Gerard put pants on before he came back here. He resists the urge to sink his teeth into his own arm as he waits for what seems like forever for Gerard to speak.  
  
And then, out of nowhere, Gerard starts laughing. Well, more like sniggering, actually; that kind of snorty, childish guffaw usually associated with the likes of pre-pubescent kids, frat boys and, well, Frank. It's definitely a Frank kind of laugh, and suddenly Frank's embarrassment evaporates into indignation as a wave of realization hits him.  
  
"Motherfucker!" Frank sits up and yanks the curtain back so viciously one of its pegs break with a loud snap. He's greeted by Gerard's rumpled, sweaty, messy form (wearing boxers, Frank isn't sure if he's pleased or disappointed.) His hair is everywhere and he's got a shit-eating grin that would put the goddamn _Cheshire Cat_ to shame.  
  
Frank throws his legs out of the bunk, thudding down inelegantly in front of Gerard. "You almost gave me a fucking heart attack, asshole! _This_ is how you get your kicks now?"  
  
Gerard stops laughing, but his grin stays in place. "It's not my fault you're so slow."  
  
"Not your--" Frank closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and resists the urge to strangle Gerard. Once he feels like he's gotten himself a little more under control, he opens his eyes. "What?"  
  
Gerard rubs at the back of his neck, a gesture that would seem awkward if it weren't for the smirk still twisting his mouth. "It just seemed like the only way I could get your attention."  
  
"You didn't think to try saying _hi_ like a normal person?" Frank asks dryly. "Maybe drop me a text? Or, fuck, I don't know-- a post-it note on my bunk? You don't think jumping straight to getting fucked in front of me is a _little_ over the top?"  
  
Frank half expects Gerard to get pissy at that, but instead he just sighs, like he's the long-suffering one here. "No, because I knew it would take more than talking to get the message across. You really are selectively blind and stupid when you want to be, Frankie. I figured the only way to show you was to, well, _show_ you."  
  
"Show me?" Frank says dumbly. "Show me what? That you're. Gay? Dating a tech? What?"  
  
"Fuck, now you're just proving my point," Gerard says exasperatedly, taking a step forward and suddenly his fingers are sliding over Frank's neck, hands cupping his jaw, and he's leaning in, bringing their mouths together.  
  
Frank's head spins and his hands flail before they land on Gerard's shoulders, and before he realizes it he's kissing him back, pulling him close. Suddenly hungry-- no, fucking _starving_ for it. Gerard makes a low, pleased noise in his throat, backing Frank up until he's got him against the side of his bunk, pressing their chests together. Frank's kissed Gerard before, obviously, but not like _this_. There's no crowd, no audience, no excuse of intoxication. And Gerard is doing filthy things with his tongue as he slides a hand down to the small of Frank's back, pulling their hips together firmly.  
  
Frank breaks the kiss to gasp. "Fuck, you've got good stamina for an old man," he pants. Gerard fists a handful of Frank's hair and pulls, which makes Frank whine and his hips jerk, since, yeah, he's not exactly lacking in the stamina department either.  
  
"Shut up," Gerard says breathlessly. "You've been driving me crazy for fucking _years_ , acting like the densest person in the fucking universe, Christ."  
  
"I thought you were straight!" Frank protests, but it comes out weak. Deep down, he knows that was never it, not really. Frank isn't easily intimidated, and he's never been accused of cowardice, but when it's Gerard? Well.  
  
Gerard just snorts. "Have you seen me, like, ever? I wasn't exactly subtle." He kisses Frank again before Frank can answer, just a quick press of lips, almost chaste. When he pulls back, his face is lit up and happy. "And I'm not dating Rowan." Frank is confused for a second, then he realizes Gerard must mean the tech. "We've just had a, um. Arrangement. For a while. I mean, not like a fuckbuddy or anything-- well. I guess a fuckbuddy, but, uh--"  
  
He trails off, and there's actually the faintest hint of a blush dusting his cheeks. Frank _can't even_.  
  
"You," he says, winding his arms around Gerard's waist, "are incredible. I'm sorry I was an idiot. I promise I'll never accuse you of being straight again."  
  
Gerard grins at him and pushes him into the bunk.


	7. Always Never Knew

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For [bandom_meme](https://bandom-meme.dreamwidth.org/).
> 
>  **Prompt:** ' _Gerard/Frank first time, preferably in public._ '
> 
>  **Tags:** First time, blowjob, face-fucking, semi-public

When it happens, it isn't as weird as Frank had expected it to be. Not that he'd _expected_ it to be anything, since he never actually thought it would happen. But the point is, Frank isn't feeling anything right now except for how turned on he is. Like, incredibly turned on. That overwhelming stage of turned-on that's so intense you can barely function, can't concentrate on anything else.  
  
Not that he'd want to. He's pretty damn happy where he is, despite the fact the grit of this parking lot is indenting painfully in the bare skin of his knees where his jeans are ripped to shit, and also despite the fact he's behind the tour bus sucking Gerard's cock, and could get caught at any moment.  
  
Well, okay, that particular element of this isn't a _despite_ at all. Honestly, it's just one more thing getting Frank hot. He can hear voices elsewhere, the sounds of other bands talking and laughing and fucking around. All they'd have to do is glance down the narrow passage their bus creates with the one next to it, and they'd be seen. Or, more accurately, _Frank_ would be seen. Seen on his knees for Gerard, making needy, slutty noises and drooling around Gerard's cock as Gerard fucks his mouth and yanks his hair.  
  
Gerard's not gentle at all, something which, again, Frank wouldn't have expected but is extremely glad is the case anyway. He's half convinced they must have done this before, somewhere in that blurry boozy period before Gerard got clean, maybe. Because goddamn, it's like Gerard's reading his fucking mind, like he already knows exactly what Frank likes. He's holding Frank's head still with a firm hand fisted in his hair, pushing himself in and out of Frank's mouth; not just letting it happen, but taking what he wants. Making Frank take it all.  
  
And it's a lot to take. Gerard's not exactly modestly endowed. Frank's lips feel almost obscenely stretched around him, mouth full to the absolute limit. It's a good job Frank's practiced at this or he'd be gagging all over the place; Gerard's hitting his throat with every thrust, spit and pre-come gummy on the back of his tongue, smell of Gerard's arousal thick and heady and overwhelming.  
  
Frank can't even be embarrassed by how much this is working him up, not when Gerard's making fucking noises like _that;_ these breathy little sounds and quiet whimpers that catch in the back of his throat. His bare hips are hot and moving under Frank's hands, jeans sagging around his thighs, and he's just so fucking gorgeous like this, unselfconscious and demanding. He's pushing on Frank's head like he isn't aware he's doing it, moaning low and thrusting harder when Frank swallows around him in response.  
  
Frank knows he's close, can feel his hips tensing under his hands, losing their rhythm. Frank doesn't know whether it's instinct or impulse that has him running a hand up the inside of Gerard's pale thigh, fingers curling up questioningly behind his balls, but he knows it's the right move when Gerard's breath hitches and his feet slide further apart, spreading himself. Frank feels a stab of heat in his gut, breathing rough and noisy around Gerard's cock at the clear invitation.

He rubs a fingertip up against Gerard's perineum and Gerard's voice breaks into a high-pitched whine, hips bucking forward abruptly, catching Frank off guard. He does gag then, and the hot rush of panic has his heart thudding and cock jerking in his jeans. Christ, how far gone is he? He's barely pulled back to catch his breath before he's sinking down again, wrapping his free hand around the base of Gerard's cock, lips meeting his fist on every fast stroke of his mouth. Taking over, because he knows Gerard's too far gone to fuck his mouth anymore.  
  
Gerard arches against the bus, moans rising into half-choked, desperate territory. He's going to come, Frank can feel it in Gerard's cock, his hips; the fingers twisting painfully tight in Frank's hair. Frank slides his fingertip further back, presses up hard against Gerard's hole, and Gerard fucking loses it; head slamming back against the bus with a loud metallic thud as his hips jerk against Frank's face and his release floods Frank's mouth.  
  
"Fuck, oh _fuck_ , Frankie," Gerard drawls breathlessly, but Frank doesn't stick around to let him ride it out; he's barely finished swallowing before he's pulling off and fumbling with his own jeans, come dribbling messily from his lips as he breathes hard through his open mouth. The taste is thick on his tongue, spurring him on; Frank swears violently as he struggles with his zipper, feeling like all his motor functions have evaporated to make room for his arousal.   
  
He growls impatiently, yanking ineffectively at his flies, but then suddenly there's strong hands pulling him to his feet, urging him back against the other bus. And then there's Gerard's body pressed against his and Gerard's thigh shoved up hard between his legs-- _God,_ yeah, Frank doesn't even need anything else. Except Gerard's sucking on his neck and muttering in his ear; gorgeous, dirty, sinful things about how hot Frank is, how good he is with his mouth, how much Gerard wants him.  
  
Frank can hear himself, even over Gerard's filthy fucking mouth; ( _yeah Frank, wanna feel you in me, your fucking cock in my ass, wanted it so much, so good, wouldn't even have to touch my dick)_ panting helplessly, clutching at Gerard everywhere he can reach. He rides Gerard's thigh until he comes in his pants, curling into him as it shakes through his body, face buried in the sweaty crook of Gerard's neck to muffle the too-loud cry he wants to make.

It's so unbelievably good his knees are left shaking, eyes stinging. Gerard is warm and solid and _there_ , holding Frank through it until he's twitching with the aftershocks, and then Frank absolutely cannot hold himself up anymore. Gerard doesn't try to stop him from crumbling, but he doesn't drop him, either. He lowers them both carefully until they're sprawled on the hard floor, Gerard's back against the bus and Frank kind of sagging boneless against him. Gerard doesn't seem to mind.  
  
"Fuck," Frank grunts, when he's managed to work up enough breath to speak. He's got his legs folded awkwardly under himself, and his hands are still fisted in the front of Gerard's shirt. He lets go, but keeps his face buried in Gerard's shoulder, despite the fact he smells of stale tobacco and at least one week-old sweat. Jesus, Frank must really fucking love this beautiful weirdo.  
  
He sighs, slouching against the bus and stretching his legs out in front of him, scrunching his nose up at the unpleasant stickiness squelching in his pants. Thank god for hotel nights with washing machines. Gerard shifts around next to him, doing up his jeans and pulling out his cigarettes, grumbling rather unconvincingly when Frank steals one.  
  
For a while they just sit there, listening to the chatter of the other bands, tensing up when footsteps approach and then laughing at themselves when they pass on by. Even when it starts to get cold and Frank's ass goes numb he doesn't move, because nowadays it feels like a rarity to get Gerard alone, and he's going to make the most of it.  
  
"I love you," Frank says cheerfully, into Gerard's gross fucking shirt. "I love you even when you smell like rancid ass."  
  
"That's a lot of love," Gerard agrees. He kisses the top of Frank's head, then elbows him in the ribs. "I love you, too. Even though you're an asshole cigarette thief."  
  
Frank squirms away, giggling. "Whatever, I could steal one every day for the rest of your _life_ \-- you'd still love me, motherfucker."  
  
Gerard grumbles some more, but doesn't disagree. It's stupid, but Frank's chest kind of tightens. He scoots down until his head is in Gerard's lap, until he's staring right up his fucking pixie noise, the underside of his slightly stubbly chin. His relaxed face and unfocused eyes.

Really, Frank should probably be thinking harder about what they just did, why neither of them seems to think it's a big deal, but honestly? Right now he's just kind of fighting down the urge to whoop gleefully, knowing that whatever this was, and whatever it will be--

It's just the beginning.


	8. Play This Duet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For [bandom_meme](https://bandom-meme.dreamwidth.org/).
> 
>  **Prompt:** ' _Gerard/Frank, what happens when both of them want to bottom? How do they solve this dilemma?'_
> 
>  **Tags:** Vibrator, desperation

After a show, usually, the only thing Frank can think about is how much he wants to get fucked. It's the high, he supposes, the way the music amps him up and strings him tight. It's both a relief and a frustration to come off stage, limbs aching and blood pounding, tension that can only be fucked out of him.  
  
The problem is, Gerard often feels the same way.  
  
"Come on, fuck, _please,"_ Frank's saying. Pleading, really, voice hoarse from screaming into the mic.

They're naked and sweaty on top of the hotel covers, hands everywhere, and Gerard is driving him insane with his perfect fucking mouth, perfect hands; perfect cock ( _big_ , Frank's mind whispers, _hugehardhot)_ rubbing up against Frank's hip. He's on top of Frank because that's where Frank's keeping him, clenching his thighs around Gerard's hips and digging in with his nails when Gerard tries to roll them, tries to get Frank to take control.

It's a little funny and a lot ridiculous. Maybe would've been embarrassing, if Frank hadn't long since moved past being ashamed of what he wants.  
  
"Frank," Gerard says desperately, eyebrows drawn together. "God, I'm sorry, I just want--"  
  
Frank kisses him, sloppy and hot, and Gerard moans quietly into his mouth, hips hitching forwards. It feels fucking amazing to be under him like this, Gerard's body between his thighs, arms boxing him in. Gerard's dick sliding through the sweat in the crease of his hip, belly dragging back over Frank's cock. It's like all Gerard has to do is pin him down and the yell of need in Frank's mind quiets a little.  
  
Gerard's tense as hell, though. Nothing like when he holds Frank down and fucks him deep and hard and intense, or in the morning when they're bleary-eyed and boneless and Gerard flushes against his back, presses Frank half into the mattress and jerks him off slowly, drawing it out, teasing him. It's humid, the air so thick they're almost sticking together, and Gerard's still buzzing from the show, Frank can feel it, fingers itching with the need to be right where Frank is right now.  
  
"M'sorry," Frank breathes when he pulls back for air, their foreheads sliding together. Gerard's dangerously wild-eyed, and it sucks, it hurts to say no to him, but he just-- Frank just _can't._ "I just - fuck, just need you, need you inside me, Gee, _please._ "  
  
Gerard makes a distressed noise, shaking his head barely, and drops his face into the crook of Frank's shoulder, mouthing wetly, aimlessly, at his neck. Frank breathes in sharply and slides a hand up into Gerard's damp hair, the other down his spine, over his hip. Down between their bellies to get Gerard's cock in his hand and stroke, slowly. Gerard groans, pushing into it, and _god_ , Frank just wants it in his ass.

Gerard's so good at it, too. Not careful, not gentle, taking what he wants but never without bringing Frank there too. And he's just fucking dirty enough, just uninhibited enough that it's always intense; Gerard's tongue in his mouth while Frank's knees are in his ears, Gerard's low, appreciative voice in his ear while his hand holds Frank's face down against the mattress--  
  
"Fuck me," Frank says thickly, grabbing at Gerard almost frantically as words spill from his mouth, too far gone to care what he looks and sounds like, "Want your cock in me, want you so deep I can't even take it, want-- _god_ , need you to hold me down, I-- next time, okay? Next time I promise I'll fuck you, but just-- fuck, Gee, _please._ "  
  
"God, this is so--" Gerard's voice is strangled and muffled in Frank's neck; Frank tugs his hair hard and kisses him again, cutting him off.

He can tell Gerard's wavering, getting too wound up to wait any longer. Frank plays on that, jerking Gerard a little harder, arching up into him. Spreading his legs wider and pulling his knees up so Gerard's cock slides against his ass. Gerard breaks away, panting, head bowing to look down at Frank all spread open, exposed; tattooed knuckles bumping his own balls as he jerks Gerard's cock. It's exactly what Frank wanted, seeing Gerard lick and bite at his lip, crooked mouth hanging open and wet. Frank lets him go, brings his sweat and precome-slick hand up to his mouth.  
  
Gerard's eyes follow him, and Frank didn't think they could get any wider, but as Frank sucks on his fingers one by one, holding Gerard's stare, it seems he was wrong.

"Frankie," Gerard says, voice thin and broken, a twisted tone of awe. And then, slightly anguished, "You are such a dick."  
  
Frank laughs breathlessly, his pinky popping out of his mouth with a satisfying slurp. "Speaking of dick."  
  
"Fuck off," Gerard says harshly, and kisses him roughly, licking into his mouth.

Frank moans appreciatively as Gerard drops more weight on him, their hips chafing, cocks sliding. Frank doesn't feel any less desperate, not at all, but now he knows, _he knows,_ and it's like all the tension in his body centers around that knowledge, that anticipation.

He wants to turn over, get on his knees; spread his thighs and take it, but Gerard holds him steady when he tries to squirm. And when Frank doesn't let up, Gerard grabs his wrists and forces them back against the mattress above Frank's head.  
  
"Shit," Frank chokes out, struggling a little, heart thudding hard at being pinned, the way it always does. The glimpses of Gerard's eyes he gets between kisses, bites, rocks of their hips make his gut churn even harder. It's his serious eyes now, his bedroom eyes, the ones he flashes at Frank from the other side of the stage that mean _later._  
  
"Fuck, I wish," Gerard's muttering lowly, out of breath, "Wish we could, both of us--"  
  
"I could," Frank starts, mind flashing to that time Gerard fucked him with Frank's fingers in his ass. God, that was hot, feeling Gerard's body clench around his fingers every time Gerard fucked into him, hearing the noises Gerard made. But then something else, another idea, suddenly fires up into the picture. "Oh my god, shit, Gee, we could-- did you bring your--?"  
  
" _Oh_ ," Gerard breathes, and then he's gone, just like that, up and off the bed and digging around in his suitcase, back before Frank can even miss him. Well, almost. "You're-- oh my god."  
  
"Genius?" Frank laughs, impatiently pulling Gerard back to him once he's dropped the toy on the bed next to them. It's silver and thick and kind of stupid-looking the way all sex toys are; it's not very often they come out to play when they're together, but now Frank's thinking about it, he can see it, and he wants it.

"Yeah, come on," he says, voice rough and grating even to his own ears, "wanna see you fuck yourself."  
  
"I--" Gerard starts, but trails off into a moan when Frank grabs his hand, sucks Gerard's fingers into his mouth like they were his own. " _God_ , Frankie."  
  
"Do it," Frank says, and Gerard does, goes down on his forearm and buries his face in Frank's chest as he reaches back behind himself.

He's too far gone to tease himself; Frank can tell he goes straight in with two by the noise he makes, the way his thighs spread wider between Frank's, the way his back arches. It's so fucking hot that Frank just _has_ to touch himself a little, get a hand around the base of his cock and grip tight. Watching the muscles in Gerard's arm flex, the repetitive bulging of a tendon that means he's fucking himself, sliding his fingers in and out to work himself open.  
  
By the time Gerard's starting to whine, pushing back against his own hand, Frank's about ready to flip him over and sit on his fucking dick himself. "Come on," he says hoarsely, fingers of his free hand tangled in Gerard's hair, pulling impatiently. "You can take it-- shit, you're fucking _dying_ for it, just let me see--"  
  
Gerard finally lets Frank pull his face up, and Christ, he looks exactly how Frank feels. He's clumsy, elbows shaky, and in the end Frank just does what he wanted; shoves at Gerard until he rolls onto his back and Frank can straddle him, fumbling under the pillow for the lube. Gerard's red hair fans wildly over the white sheets, his skin flushed and damp all over. His cock feels fucking perfect between the cheeks of Frank's ass, dragging teasingly over his hole when Frank shifts his hips.  
  
Frank doesn't even give himself one finger. He doesn't have anywhere near the patience left, and he knows he can take it; knows how it feels when he doesn't, like he's gonna fucking tear apart, and he needs it. He gets Gerard wet enough and mounts up, reaches between his legs, relishing Gerard's shocked moan as he starts to press down. There's a sharp jolt of pain when his body gives that Frank needs like fucking air, and then he's sinking down, down and it's even better, that awesome stretching ache building hotly through his thighs and up his spine.  
  
Fuck, this is _exactly_ what he needs. Absolutely nothing compares to this, having Gerard inside him like this, filling him up. Frank knows the kind of noises he makes when he's got Gerard's cock in his ass, needy and whimpering, but he can't care when it feels this overwhelming, this utterly consuming.  
  
"Frank," Gerard groans pleadingly, and yeah, _fuck yeah,_ Frank wants that, too.  
  
"Wait," he grits out, scrabbling with unsteady hands for the toy, the lube. He can feel Gerard's eyes on him as he slicks it up, and it feels ridiculous and obscene, the way he's working his hand like he's jerking it off, fingers of his other hand tight around the plastic base. "Can you-- spread your legs for me."  
  
Gerard obeys instantly, pulling his legs up and sliding his feet apart, thighs hitching against Frank's back. It's kind of awkward, bracing himself on Gerard's knee so he can lean back and drop his arm. Borders on too much, the way it forces him to spread his thighs wider, push his hips forward, press down harder onto Gerard's cock. But _god_ , Gerard's gaze is pure, molten heat, his breaths loud with anticipation, and it's so, _so_ worth it when Frank finally starts to slide it in, slow, inch by inch. Worth it just for the look on Gerard's face, tense and overwhelmed, flushed from his throat right up through his face.  
  
When it's all the way inside, they both let out the breaths they've been holding. "Okay?" Frank manages to get out, and Gerard nods frantically, hands clenching erratically on Frank's hips. "You want me to fuck you with it or just turn it on? 'Cause I don't. I'm not sure I can--"  
  
"Yeah," Gerard croaks. "I mean. Turn it-- turn it on." He looks like fucking _porn_ , and Frank still wants to be fucked, held down; but he's glad he can see that, that Gerard's _letting_ him see it. How desperate he is, how turned on he is.  
  
" _God_ " Frank says, and presses the button.  
  
Neither of them last long. From the sharp jerk of Gerard's hips as he cries out, jarring Frank into moving; to the sloppy, aimless rhythm that builds, it's like a mad dash for the finish line, racing each other there. Frank rides Gerard's cock with his hands braced on Gerard's chest, Gerard's rough on his hips, pulling him into each hard, fast rock of his hips. There's no technique, thought; nothing but how good it feels, so good Frank can hardly catch his breath, Gerard's cock thick and deep and angling just right where it's sliding in and out of him. His own dick rubs slickly over Gerard's belly with every undulation, and Gerard's eyes are wide and dark on his, their panting loud and harsh in the space between them.  
  
Gerard comes first, pulling Frank down and burying himself deep, moaning through the sharp twitches of his hips. "Frankie, Frank, _fuck_ , I can't--"  
  
Frank can barely see past the feeling of Gerard coming inside him, but he manages to lean back, get his shaky fingers wrapped around the toy enough to ease it out. And Gerard doesn't make him wait; the instant the toy slips free he's rolling them, pushing Frank over onto his back so he can slide down between his legs and swallow his cock.  
  
"Fucking _god,_ " Frank spits, grabbing for Gerard's hair and yanking hard, feeling red strands snag and rip. Gerard gags a little through his moan and goes harder, mouth meeting the hand he wraps tight around the base on every stroke; it's a good job Gerard likes this because fuck if Frank knows how to control himself right now.

He can feel where he's wet, where Gerard's come is leaking out of him, smeared all over thighs and between his legs, and it only makes that ache in his gut swell harder. Even harder than the ache of being so suddenly empty, building tight and hot through his whole body, until he's choking out a warning and bucking up violently as he comes in Gerard's mouth, writhing around helplessly on the sheets as his mind and vision blurs.  
  
When he emerges blearily out the other end, Gerard's stretched out next to him, an arm thrown over him, nuzzling sloppy kisses into his neck. And, hey, apparently Frank's been nuzzling back without realizing, petting clumsily at Gerard's sweaty back and hair.  
  
"Fuck," someone sighs. Possibly Gerard, but Frank feels the rumble of his chest against his own where they're pressed together, so it's hard to tell.  
  
Frank can't really think. "M'sorry I didn't fuck you." He's half-asleep and semi-delirious from his orgasm, but it suddenly seems really important Gerard knows. "Next time we're both, like... y'know. I promise I will."  
  
Gerard makes a rumbly, snorty kind of noise into Frank's hair. "No, it's. I mean, um, I liked our solution."  
  
" _My_ solution," Frank reminds him, and then giggles a little under his breath. "Guess this is the problem with a couple of bottoms getting together, hm."  
  
"Speak for yourself," Gerard says primly, and then squawks loudly when digs fingers into his ribs, squirming around until they wind up half on top of each other, naked and sweaty and everything Frank fucking wants in life.  
  
"S'okay though," Frank mumbles a few minutes later when they're laid together under the covers, both of them on the verge of sleep. "We can just, y'know, think of more solutions."  
  
"Mmm," Gerard hums, eyes shut, breathing deeply against Frank's throat. He's not really listening, Frank knows, but that's okay. He'll just show him in the morning.


	9. Yes, No, Maybe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For [bandom_meme](https://bandom-meme.dreamwidth.org/).
> 
>  **Prompt:** ' _Frank/Gerard phone sex. Bonus points for toppy!Frank telling Gerard what to do to himself in graphic detail.'_
> 
>  **Tags:** Phone sex, dirty talk, light D/s, masturbation

They're two weeks into Gerard being away when he calls Frank in the middle of the night.  
  
"--the fuck?" Frank squints over at his bedside table, groaning when the blurry red neon alerts him it is precisely too-late-for-Frank-to-be-awake. "The _actual_ fuck?" he amends.  
  
"Oh, sorry, did I wake you?"  
  
Frank knows Gerard always forgets about the few hours’ time difference between LA and here, but Gerard doesn't sound very sorry at all. In fact, by the sound of his voice and the tell-tale rustling of sheets Frank can hear in the background, Gerard is currently the farthest away from being sorry anyone could possibly be. Frank groans again, tipping his head back against the pillows and pressing the heel of his free hand against his forehead.

"Jesus, Gerard. You couldn't wait until I was awake?"  
  
"Oh." Gerard's breath hitches, right in Frank's ear. " _Ah._ No. I-- no." And seriously, _fuck him_ , because Frank is never too tired to get it up as a general rule, and Frank can hear him; the slick, dirty kind of noises only a hand on a hard, lubed-up cock could produce.  
  
"I hate you, you know," Frank tells him.  
  
Gerard snorts, laughing a little. "No you don't. You love me."  
  
Whatever, Frank's never been a very good liar. He makes a noncommittal sound as he slides a hand under the blankets, cupping his own cock. And thank god he sleeps naked, because he totally wouldn't have the will to strip right now. "What're you doing?"  
  
"Oh, y'know," Gerard drawls. "Just, um. Laying around." He sniggers, but Frank grits his teeth, fatigue still clinging to his senses.  
  
"Gerard, seriously, I am _this close_ to hanging up on your sorry ass--"  
  
"Okay, okay, fuck! I'm, um." Gerard coughs, laughter dissolving. "I'm touching myself."  
  
Frank wants to roll his eyes, because _yeah, duh._ But knowing it and hearing Gerard actually say it are two very different things. Frank feels heat coiling in his belly, cock starting to fill against his palm. "Oh yeah?"  
  
"Yeah," Gerard confirms, and his voice is suddenly lower, sultry, the version of stage-Gerard that nobody else gets to see except Frank. "I got hard because I was thinking about you. About that time you pushed me over the back of your couch and made me finger myself for you, do you remember?"  
  
"Do I-- _fuck,"_ Frank stutters, because fuck yeah, he remembers. Gerard had looked so fucking hot bent over like that; all that smooth pale skin of his thighs and ass, moaning obscenely as he worked his fingers in and out of himself.  
  
Frank's cock hardens fully at the memory, and he trails his fingertips over it, teasing himself. "Yeah. I remember."  
  
"Yeah," Gerard repeats. "Shit, I could barely _walk_ you fucked me so hard after. You get off on watching me, don't you?"  
  
"Yes," Frank says immediately. "Fuck, 'course I do, Gee. You're so fucking hot."  
  
Gerard laughs again, but it's darker now, teasing. "I wish you were watching me right now. What would you make me do for you, Frankie? I'll do it now. Anything you want."  
  
"God." Frank wants Gerard to do everything, all of it, doesn't even know where to start. He curls a hand around his cock, the tip already wet, smearing sticky trails over his stomach. Jesus, this is what Gerard does to him. "I-- okay, shit. Do you have one of your toys with you?"  
  
"Bedside table."  
  
"Get it," Frank says, and already he can hear his voice lowering, automatically slipping into the commanding tone he uses with Gerard.  
  
There's shuffling noises, the sound of a drawer opening, and Gerard's voice is slightly breathless when it returns. "'kay, got it. It's my favorite. Y'know, the real thick one?"  
  
"Uh," Frank falters, trying to picture it. "Yeah, I think so. Why's that one your favorite?"  
  
"'Cause it's easy to pretend it's you."  
  
Frank inhales sharply. "Yeah? You do that a lot? Fuck yourself and imagine it's me?"  
  
"Mmm. I always miss you, Frankie. Wish you were here."  
  
"Me too," Frank says, voice and chest tight as he starts to stroke himself, slowly. "I wish I could see you. You going slow?"  
  
"Mhmm," Gerard hums, throaty. "M'just, just laid out on the covers. Thinking, y'know?"  
  
"Yeah, I know." Frank can see it even without being there; Gerard sprawled out on his bed (naked?) all flushed skin and soft curves, mind consumed with thoughts of Frank as he pumps his cock nice and slow. It's enough to make Frank lose his brain/mouth filter for a minute. "I wanna touch you. Fuck, want my hands all over you. And my mouth."  
  
Gerard huffs a laugh. "That's-- _ah_ , fine by me."

Reluctantly, Frank sniggers too, despite the fact he's rapidly losing his patience. He's restless and tired and really, really horny; all he wants is to break Gerard apart, get him so desperate to come he won't have breath left for anything other than begging.

"You _really_ wanna know what I'd make you do if I were there, Gee?" Frank cuts through the levity firmly, satisfied by how quickly Gerard falls silent. "Well, firstly, I'd make you shut the fuck up, so we could get on with this. Either with a gag or your own fingers, I'm sure you're not fussy. And secondly? I'd make you roll over and get that sweet fuckin' ass of yours in the air."  
  
There's silence for a long moment, then a sudden flurry of movement on the other end of the line, sounds of sheets and mattress springs, beeps of buttons being clumsily pressed. Gerard's voice is shaky when it returns, "'kay, I-- I've done it, I'm on my knees, I've got the phone on speaker. Frank, what--"  
  
"That isn't shutting the fuck up, Gerard," Frank says, keeping his cool despite the hard twitch his cock gives at the thought of Gerard on his knees and elbows, back arched and thighs spread. "The only time I want you to talk is when you're answering a question. Yes and no only, unless I say otherwise. Got it?"  
  
"Yeah," Gerard pants. "Uh, yes."  
  
"Good boy," Frank says approvingly. At times it seems strange, how easy he finds it to boss Gerard around, how much they both get off on it. But not right now. He slides his palm over the head of his cock, getting his hand nice and slick. "Are you still touching yourself?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Stop," Frank says firmly. Gerard starts to whine, protesting, but Frank just snorts, "Oh, stop it. We both know you can come without even touching your dick." Gerard whines even more at that, and Frank can tell he's done as Frank told him. "Okay," he says. "Now, I assume you have lube?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Uh-huh. You can forget about that for now."  
  
"But--"  
  
" _Gerard_ ," Frank says warningly, and Gerard exhales hard and falls silent. "That's better. Now, if you'd _let me finish,_ I would have told you you'll use it later, when you fuck yourself with your toy. But for now, all you need are your fingers."  
  
Gerard whimpers a little on the other end of the line, and Frank smirks to himself, still working his cock slowly. Just playing with it, really, not trying to build it up just yet. "Start high," he says. "I want you to tease yourself, get yourself really fucking worked up. Like it's me, yeah? My mouth on your neck, my hands on your body. Are you doing it?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Tell me. You can talk."  
  
Gerard's breathing hard, voice strained. "M'just. Just running my fingers down, over my chest. Fuck, Frankie, m'so--"  
  
"That's enough," Frank cuts him off firmly. He pauses, trying to picture himself there with Gerard, what he'd be doing to him now. "Play with your nipples."  
  
" _Frank--_ "  
  
"I said that's enough," Frank snaps. "Shut the fuck up and do what I tell you, Gerard. I want you to play with your pink little nipples for me, get them so hard and sensitive you can barely stand it, yeah?"  
  
" _Yes,"_ Gerard groans, voice fucking shredded already, and Frank answers with a groan of his own as he pictures it - Gerard ass-up and squirming, face against the mattress and fingers busy on his own chest.  
  
"That's it, baby," Frank encourages. "Feel good?"  
  
"Yes, _yes_."  
  
"Yeah. God, I bet you look so good. I fucking love your body, love having you all laid out and turned on for me--" Frank stops himself, aware of how hard he's breathing. He doesn't want to get off track. "You can. You can go lower."  
  
Gerard's noises are muffled, his heavy breathing crackling thickly over the line. Frank faintly hears him grit out, "Yeah," like it's to himself, and then " _Yes_ ," louder, a whoosh of air into the phone. "Can I--"  
  
"Yeah," Frank says without thinking. He wasn't intending on letting him again, but fuck, he's so turned on listening to this, and he wants it, too. "Yeah, you can. One hand. Stick the fingers of the other in your mouth."  
  
"Uh," Gerard pants, followed by that thick, high little noise from his throat Frank would know anywhere as the sound of him getting his hand back on his cock. And then all he's hearing are slick, wet noises, obnoxious and obscene and the best fucking thing in the world.  
  
"Shit, yeah," Frank grunts. He's jerking himself with more purpose now, fucking up into his hand a little, fingers of his other clutched tight around the phone. "You know what to do, Gee. Just like that time over my couch, yeah?"  
  
Gerard's noise of assertion is muffled and thick. Frank strains to hear it all; Gerard sucking on his fingers one by one, probably fucking licking his palm like he does on stage, the sounds of the mattress shifting. There's a heavy pause between the wet noises slurping to a stop and Gerard's breath audibly quickening, tensing, and Frank doesn't even have to ask to know where Gerard's hand is. He can picture Gerard's fingers teasing at his hole, the way it looks when it gives around Frank's own fingers or his dick; and the long, drawn-out groan Gerard lets out only confirms it for him.  
  
Frank lets the moment hang for a long while, listening to the sound of Gerard panting and whining while he fingers himself and jacks his cock. Eventually Frank says, quietly, "Feel good? Starting to feel full?"  
  
"I, no, _yes,_ I--"  
  
"No?" Frank teases, feeling himself smile. He knows exactly what Gerard means. "You want more?"  
  
" _Yes_ ," Gerard huffs desperately. "Frank, I want--"  
  
"Shhh," Frank soothes, licking his dry lips, shifting until he can kick the covers away from his body. He's hot all over, starting to sweat. " _Now_ you can get the lube."  
  
Gerard makes an eager, gorgeous little sound, and it's almost funny, except Frank can't do much more than hump his hand and pant as he listens to Gerard scramble for what he needs and say breathlessly, "How. How do you want me, Frankie?"  
  
Frank wants to say something really lame and unhelpful like _every way, all the fucking time_ , but he restrains himself. "On your back now," he says slowly. "If I'm gonna fuck you I wanna see your face. Get on your back and spread your legs for me."  
  
He has to slow down the strokes of his hand when he hears Gerard obey him, the faint squelch of lube and shuffling that are all Frank has to paint a picture with in his mind. He knows how Gerard looks like this; spread out on the bed under him, skin flushed and damp, thighs sprawled open. How his cock looks hard and huge and dark against his belly, and the wild, demanding look in his eyes when Frank's about to fuck him. When Frank teases him.  
  
"You slicked me up good and ready?" Frank breathes, and tightens his fingers around the base of his dick when Gerard confirms it. "Rub the head up against your hole, yeah?" Gerard only breathes, hard and sucked-in through his teeth, but Frank knows he's doing it. He knows Gerard's thinking about when Frank really does this, imagining he's doing it right now; pushing Gerard's legs back and pinning him down, rocking his hips to drag his cock back and forth teasingly between his cheeks. "Go on, push it in. Slow as you can stand."  
  
" _Frank_ ," Gerard whines, voice catching hard, and then he's gasping and Frank's biting hard into his bottom lip, squeezing his eyes shut to focus on the image of Gerard sliding a dildo into his ass and pretending it's Frank's cock instead.  
  
"Yeah," Frank says roughly. "How do I feel, baby?"  
  
"Good. _God_ , Frank, so good."  
  
"Yeah? Fuck, you're so tight and hot, I can fucking feel you from here," Frank says harshly. He stops moving his hand to spit into it, groaning at the slick, easy slide when he starts jerking himself again, rougher now. Gerard gasps again and _Christ_ , Frank can fucking _hear_ it. The sound of Gerard starting to fuck himself, slick, filthy noises of him pumping the toy in and out, sounds of Gerard's hand on his cock. "How hard am I fucking you? Am I in deep?"  
  
" _Fuck_ ," Gerard chokes on a moan. "So hard, so deep, fucking driving me crazy. Frank, I can't--"  
  
"Go faster," Frank huffs, pushing out words between breaths, suddenly right on the edge. " _God_ , Gee, you're so hot, I'm not even gonna-- not gonna last, wanna come inside you, fucking feel you come around me-- fuck, do it, let me hear you, fuck, _fuck--_ "  
  
It's the best orgasm Frank's had since Gerard went. But then, he isn't on his own this time. As Frank lays there reeling and panting he gets to listen to Gerard come too, groaning out Frank's name and spitting out an impressive string of swearing.

They breathe together for a while, almost like they're sharing the afterglow through the phone line, and then Gerard starts moving, mumbling to himself as he cleans himself up. Frank listens to this too, and catches himself smiling fondly, despite the tight little feeling in his stomach tampering the awesome post-coital high. _It's only for another couple of weeks_ , he tells himself again for the hundredth time.  
  
"Frank?" Gerard's voice comes back, rough and deliciously fucked-out. Frank hums to show he's still here, and there's a pause before Gerard snorts a laugh. "God, that was awesome."  
  
"Yep," Frank agrees. He absentmindedly swipes his fingers through the jizz on his stomach, and makes a face. "Thanks for waking me up."  
  
"Oh," Gerard says. He still doesn't sound sorry.  
  
Frank sighs. He only has to be up early for the fucking meter reader, not the Queen of England or anything, but it's the principle. "I think I'm gonna have to get you to do this again for me when you get home."  
  
"Oh," Gerard says again, and he definitely doesn't sound like anything other than someone who is absolutely on board with that.  
  
Frank grins, and settles in to talk more about when Gerard comes home.


	10. Scars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For [anon_lovefest](https://anon-lovefest.livejournal.com/).
> 
>  **Prompt:** ' _Mikey/Frank, bloodplay.'_
> 
>  **Tags:** Knifeplay, bloodplay

Frank is a mess of skin and ink in the center of the bed. At the foot, Mikey stands with his feet spread wide, chunky buckles of his boots flashing in the light from the single lamp on the bedside table.  
  
"Safeword."  
  
Frank's eyes widen. "What?"  
  
"Safeword, Frank," Mikey repeats calmly. "We need one. Just in case."  
  
"Just in case, what? You're not gonna go psycho on me, are you?" Frank asks, only half-joking.  
  
Mikey feels his lips quirk, just a little. He makes sure each footstep is heavy and dense against the thick hotel carpet as he slowly approaches Frank's side.  
  
Frank's eyes follow him carefully. He flinches when Mikey leans, and Mikey can tell he's holding his breath. Mikey's whisper is direct and matter-of-fact, a stark contrast to the unnerving stillness. "Just in case you can't take it anymore."  
  
Frank's inhale is audible, but his narrowed eyebrows betray his petulance, the underlying stubbornness in him. "You think I'm gonna pussy out?"  
  
No, Mikey doesn't think that. The safeword is just pretense, an illusion of some form of control for Frank to cling to. Something for him to rebel against, to focus all of that determination to _resist_ on. Without that, Frank could never handle this, and they both know it.  
  
Mikey sits on the edge of the bed, running a fingertip lazily, playfully, over Frank's bare thigh. "Everyone has their limits," he says, shrugging like it doesn't matter.  
  
Frank frowns, the corner of his mouth twitching as though suppressing the urge to protest. Their eyes meet, and Mikey holds his gaze solidly until Frank breaks with a small sound of frustration, turning his head away to stare hard at the opposite wall.  
  
"Scars," he says, so quiet Mikey almost didn't catch it. And, _huh_.  
  
"Huh," Mikey says. " _Scars?_ Okay."  
  
Frank shifts slightly against the sheets, face still turned childishly away. Mikey made sure, earlier, to strip the bed down to its layers of thin, durable linen, exposing the unblemished white of his Queen-sized canvas. Against it, Frank is starkly magnificent; vibrant color and a dark, messy halo of hair, the painting already halfway complete.  
  
Mikey takes it slow, at first. Enough to hold the tension, but not build on it. Soft kisses, gentle touches, coaxing Frank's mouth back to his until some of the stiffness ebbs out of Frank's muscles, steadily getting into it. Mikey loses his boots and shirt, but keeps his pants on, knowing the material is rough against Frank's naked skin.  
  
And he waits, makes sure he waits for the right time. The arms encasing his shoulders, trying to tug him down, before he reaches for the knife.  
  
The first cut is shallow but shocking. Frank's whole body jolts underneath him, the _fuck!_ coming out tight and strangled. His eyes are wild, fierce.

"Could have warned me, asshole," he snaps, but Mikey isn't fooled. He didn't miss the way Frank's cock jumped against his belly.  
  
The cut is about an inch long, just under the last rib of Frank's left side, and barely deep enough to draw blood. Mikey can sense it, though; the liquid vermillion a breath away from the surface. Frank is deadly still, jaw clenched, inhaling slow and deep through his nose. His eyes are huge and unblinking as they follow the progress of knife to skin.  
  
When the wickedly pointed tip touches lightly against his stomach, Frank's entire body pulls taut. Mikey feels the arousal surge through himself, cock twitching in his pants. Pressure on the handle, and Frank's flesh swells up around the dent, trembling slightly.  
  
He makes it quick. A firm press, a flick of the wrist, and Frank's blood is rising in a rich line of red. Mikey watches the individual beads swell until they start to spill under their rising volume.  
  
Frank's curse had been garbled, dying halfway out of his throat, and now he's panting slightly, eyes squeezed shut. Mikey touches his hip with the fingers of his free hand.

"Scars?" he asks quietly. Half soothing, half _taunting_.  
  
Frank opens his eyes. And there's that defiance of his, burning harshly in his stare. "Hell no."  
  
Mikey feels himself smirk. Saying nothing, he straightens up, moving to straddle Frank's thighs, arch over him. Frank's breath hitches, and yeah, Mikey knows how he looks like this. The sharp edges of his limbs, the sinewy planes of his torso, the striking angularity of his body. The long, curved flat of silver protruding from his clenched fist is the catalyst, but Mikey--  
  
Mikey is the centerpiece.  
  
The next cut is across Frank's chest, deeper and longer, deliberately close to the ink over his heart. Frank takes longer to come down from it, only increasing the potency of his desperation to carry on, to take more. The silence is thick, unnerving, sharp as the blade in Mikey's hand. The tension in the air is mandatory for this to work, the diluted fear in Frank's eyes a necessity.  
  
The next one claims his left hip, curving under the swallow, shallowness of skin against bone turning Frank's knuckles white in the knotted sheets. Again across the other, and he's writhing, neck long and sweaty as his mouth gapes at the ceiling. His torso is rapidly becoming a field of crimson, welling up in the gashes, trickling down onto the sheets.  
  
Two more over his sternum, and Frank loses his voice. He jerks when Mikey touches him, long fingers smearing a path from nipple to bellybutton. Mikey finds himself fascinated with the way the blood looks against Frank's tattoos, lines shining dark through the viscous liquid.  
  
He allows his hand to trail lower, smudged fingerprints across Frank's strained abdomen, before gripping his cock in a wet palm. Frank's hips buck, and he hisses at his skin pulling against the angry soreness of the cuts.

He's hot and leaking in Mikey's hand. When Mikey bows over him, presses his tongue against Frank's ear and the predatory line of the knife's edge against his exposed throat, he comes hard all over Mikey's fingers and his own stomach, cry hoarse and desolate.  
  
Mikey straightens up, watches Frank sink boneless against the mattress. His chest heaves with every shuddering breath, and he's shaking, a little. The sheets are satisfyingly stained, blotches ranging in diameter from small splashes to dark, wide pools.  
  
Mikey leans down and licks at Frank's stomach, tastes the pungent, metallic combination of copper and salt. The whole room reeks of it. Frank whimpers quietly, overwhelmed under Mikey's tongue, eyes lidded and wanton. He looks utterly debauched, spread among the blemished white like a sacrifice, skin bathed in ink and rouge.  
  
The image is enough to make Mikey come undone even without getting his pants open, fisting himself roughly. Under Frank's intense eyes; his slack, wet mouth, Mikey comes quick, spilling into the mess on Frank's belly. It swirls creamy amongst the red, congealing thick and pink.  
  
Frank makes to sit up, winces, and thinks better of it. He reaches for Mikey with aimless hands instead, pulling him down for a kiss that tastes lewd and dirty. The game over, Mikey puts the knife on the bedside table, reaches for clean-up. He tends to Frank carefully, lovingly, pressing his lips quick and dry against each bandaged cut.  
  
He waits until they're settled on the dry side of the bed, smoking cigarettes, before he speaks. "Why _scars?"_  
  
Frank smiles poignantly against Mikey's chest, shrugs a shoulder. "Reminds me why I'm yours."

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[podfic of] Ain't Nothing But A Label, by synonomy](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28796730) by [TheOneCalledEli](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheOneCalledEli/pseuds/TheOneCalledEli)




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